


Desert Rose

by Sinistretoile



Series: The Pieces of Pine [8]
Category: The Night Manager (TV), The Night Manager - Jean Le Carré
Genre: Episode 5, F/M, Fucking, Mercenaries, Porn, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Rough Sex, Sex, Sexual Content, Shameless Smut, Smut, Stranger Sex, Tent Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-14
Updated: 2016-04-14
Packaged: 2018-06-02 04:45:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,159
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6551545
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sinistretoile/pseuds/Sinistretoile
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Andrew Birch aka Jonathan Pine saves an aide worker from an unsavory fate but is no night and shining armor.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Desert Rose

The Haven bubbled with celebratory noise. Moira’s hands shook until she’d fisted them on her hips. She stood on a hill between one of the countless refugee camps and the mercenary camp. She’d taken pictures of the systematic demolition of the village after it started. The sound had terrified her and the children she’d been watching over.  
Moira made her up mind to say something. Anything. Her feet sent clouds of sand up into the air as she shuffled down the side of the mill. It clung to the sheen of sweat on her legs. Her feet sent up small clouds of dust as she jogged to the main gate.  
Two men with guns stood guard. Her shoulders drooped more and more as she grew closer. They leveled weighted gazes on her. Moira narrowed her eyes and squared her shoulders, summoning every ounce of courage she had. “I demand to speak to whoever’s in charge here.”  
Jonathan slowed to a stop a couple yards away. After the night’s activity and the trio of lives he’d tried to save and failed, he couldn’t let this well-meaning woman die too. He watched her agitation grow as the mercenaries stonewalled her.  
“What’s going on here?” He changed direction and headed to the gate.  
“She wants to see the man in charge.” The mercenary deadpanned to him. His hands never left his AR-15.  
Jonathan swallowed. Sweat drenched her hair and made it cling to her sun-kissed flesh. It beaded on her throat and the v of her chest that button-down exposed. Her legs seemed to go on for days. He became very aware of the fact that she was the only woman in the camp. “What’s your name?” He looked down at her. Her intense green eyes burned with hate and harmful intention.  
“Are you the man in charge?”  
“No, I’m his associate.”  
“Then you don’t need to know my name. I want to speak to whoever runs this shit show. Right. This. Instant.”  
He frowned. “Very well then. I’ll take her to the chief.”  
“You sure, Birch?”  
“I’m sure.”  
Jonathan grabbed her gruffly by the upper arm and escorted her in the direction of his and Roper’s tents. “Unhand me this instant.” Despite her long legs, she felt like she hurried along unnecessarily beside him. She tried to no avail to pull her arm free.  
“You’d do well to mind your tongue right now.” Something in his tone set off her alarms. He shoved her into his tent, letting go of her arm. She spun around, ready to tear into him. He brought his body close to hers, grabbing her upper arms in an unshakable grip. “Who are you?”  
“Moira Delaney.”  
“What are you doing here?”  
“I’m here to complain, to rail against whatever atrocity this is.”  
“Not here at the camp, here in the desert.”  
She swallowed. “I’m an aide worker. That attack on the village terrified myself and the children. This has to stop.”  
“I agree.”  
“Well you –“ She furrowed her brow. “You what?”  
“Listen, you need to leave. Immediately. I’m doing what I can to make this stop.” Moira swallowed. Perhaps she’d made a grave error in coming here. He felt the tremor take her. “Hush, it’s alright. I’ll escort you to the gate and you head straight back to the refugee camp.”  
She stepped into him, needing comfort in the moment more than escape. Jonathan slipped his arms around her. The warmth of her body different from the oppressive desert heat. She looked up at him and he down at her. Then his lips took hers. Her hands found his hair. Their bodies pushed against each other before he walked her back against the center pole of the tent to press against her.  
She fumbled with his belt, button and zipper, as his kiss traveled to her throat and became a bite. She gasped, arching off the pole. He groaned and pushed himself into her hand. She stroked him, pulling him out into the warm, desert air. Her thumb traced the drop of pre-cum down his shaft. He made quick work of her shorts, dropping them to her feet. She lifted a foot out of them and wrapped it around his waist. He grabbed her thigh and lifted it higher before he lifted her body and slid her down the length of his cock.  
Moira barked out a moan and he quickly covered her mouth. “Shush, you have to be quiet.” He panted, trying to keep his voice a whisper. The tent shook with every short snap of his hips. His arm clamped like a vise around her torso. Jonathon spun her around and unceremoniously dropped them onto the cot.  
The wind knocked from her lungs between the drop and his weight then his hand was back over her mouth. He pressed his mouth to the back of his hand, their eyes locked together. He left a slender gap for her to breathe through her nose but it wasn’t enough to get a lungful. His hips thrust his cock deep into her, lifting her ass off the canvas cot.  
Moira’s shorts hung down over his ass from her leg wrapped around his thigh. His teeth sunk into his hand as he fought to be quiet, his high pitched moans joined hers in their muffled torment. Her cunt quivered around his then her back arched. Her world went white. The lack of oxygen sent off the most intense orgasm she’d ever felt. He moved up onto his knees, changing his angle and both their worlds went white as she came a second time and he came.  
Jonathan searched her face. It was her eyes that stabbed his heart. So many passionate women he crossed paths with on this likely mortal journey. And he wanted to save them all. Maybe he could save this one. “Walk straight out of here like you own the place. Do not stop at the gate. Go back to the camp and get your things. Get in a cab and fly home. Do not come back. Find another job. Find a man and fuck him like that every day. Understood?”  
“Yes.”  
“Good.” He pushed himself up and off her. They stole glances at one another as they pulled up pants and shorts and fastened them. He cupped her face, catching her by surprise. “The good in you is why I do what I do.” He kissed her, again surprising her with the sweet heat of his mouth and the tender brush of his tongue.  
He let her go and ducked to the side of the tent. “Wait, what’s your name?”  
“Jonathan. Jonathan Pine.” She scurried over to him and kissed him again. He closed his eyes, savoring her sweetness. Then she turned her back and was gone. He ducked out of the tent and watched her walk out like she had every reason to be there. He couldn’t help but smile at his desert rose.


End file.
